Immortal Stranger
by Emiri-chan the GREAT
Summary: R to PG13. Arad, a human boy, stumbles upon two elves outside his village. After a tragic incident, one of them, called Legolas, is left alone and injured. He must stay with the humans, but will the differences in Men kill him or save him? Can Estel help?
1. First Meetings and Last Goodbyes

Hello everyone!

This was just a little piece I had in mind as having a buncha cool scenes and whatnot. Hope you like! (And P.S., NO, I will NOT translate 'Kenshin to Iu Imi' into English! GET A DICTIONARY AND TAKE A CLASS!! BUAAHAHAHAHAAAAH!!!) (Well, maybe later. Basically Kaoru is dying and Kenshin has to figure it out and let her know how he feels before she dies of a broken heart. Nothing big )

Ahem. (smack smack) Here's tha ficcy. (P.S. again, I totally made up Telerin's name. Does anybody know what that means in elvish? Am I calling him "BeaverQuack" or something? Oh well, so long as it isn't reely stupid or silly, I'm okay with it. He's only in a few chapters.)

And this is not slash, for those of you who are wondering.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

IMMORTAL STRANGER

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The forest was beautiful this time of day. Yellow-green leaves and fresh shoots emerged from the soft ground in sprigs, and the dark, rich brown of the branches contrasted prettily with the new green of the thick leaves adorning them. Squirrels were playing happily above the human villagers in the dirt roads, and it was one of those days when work seemed a sin.

The little village was bustling with activity, but not overflowing. It was fairly small, with a good bit of distance between them and the next village, but not so small or far away as to be in trouble if some ill were to befall anyone. The thatched roofs and thick wooden walls of the huts and barns were very well made; even now there were repairs being done to one of the smaller sheds. Men stood on rope ladders and scaffoldings with hammers and sawdust on their persons, joking amiably about how they would drink when they were done.

Shops stood open on every street, and ruddy, thick-necked, burly men worked away in their smithies, carpentry houses, and tanneries, some with adolescent apprentices at their sides. Women on the cobblestones stood winnowing or weaving, making cotton and wool cloth and other wares for the next batch of merchants when they arrived. The younger children played with sticks, dolls and other things, chasing each other around the front of their houses while their mothers swept the front steps or peeled apples and potatoes for supper. It was the perfect picture of uncorrupted prosperity.

Despite this, Arad loved to be away from the town and out in the woods. Things were much more interesting out there, and he almost always had a new story to tell when he came back from across the brook. After he returned, he thought to himself, he would most likely stop by the tavern to hear what new tales the hunters had to tell. The stories from the hunters were more interesting than anything else in the village, save perhaps those of the occasional ranger. They were the only men to ever leave the village on a regular basis, and Arad's ambition was to become one of them the moment he came of age.

Arad was a stout young man, almost twelve, and old enough to be out on his own (although his mother would definitely have argued that point.) Like his mother, he had grey-green eyes that sparkled like lakewater, but his father's hair shone through a tawny brown, wavy and sun-lightened. His skin was well-tanned, like that of an outdoor-going boy would be. The features were still young, not at all unpleasant with a hint of childish snub to the nose, but his brow and jawline were angular and quite fetching.

The boy wore only a thin, light-brown jerkin and a stained, off-white shirt with dark trousers. His bare feet felt good as soon as they hit the dew-soaked grass on the other side of the fence, and he strolled leisurely under the branches of the ancient oaks, basking in the warmth of the day.

The sound of the brook grew closer as time wore on and Arad quickened his pace in apprehension. Finally the edge of the forest receded, and he breathed in the scent and sight of the water, watching in appreciative contentment as it wound through the fold, bubbling. The young man sat in a patch of moss between the knobby protruding roots of an ancient tree, lying back and folding his arms behind his head. Sunlight dappled his skin, filling him with a pleasant heat.

'I wish mother would come see this,' he thought. 'So terribly worried about her linens being dirtied all the time... Oh well. All the more time for me.'

Arad was just thinking of making his way to the water's edge when a slight flash of gold caught his eye. Beneath the shadows of the trees, something had moved in the treetops, and it was large; too large to be anything ordinary.

The boy sat up slowly, trying not to attract attention with sudden movements. Wargs and various stray creatures from the mountains sometimes wandered by, but Orcs were rarely seen, so if he was lucky, it wasn't one of those. The Elves of Rivendell lived to the north, mysterious, seemingly ethereal beings who rarely associated with humans and, in the opinion of children and even some adults, a very frightening people. Not much was known about them, but opinions on the Firstborn varied immensely. At eleven years old, Arad had never left the village, let alone seen any other being besides a Man.

Another shimmer of leaves was his only warning as a tall, lithe figure dropped from the trees and landed in a crouch on the soft ground. Arad had already pressed himself as far back into the foliage as he could, eyes wide in disbelief as the creature straightened and looked up into the trees. A moment later another leapt down beside him, and he smiled at his companion as he rose. With that smile, the boy knew from the tavern tales that these must be Elves.

The two Elves were unlike anything he'd ever seen. They could easily have been twins; obviously male but definitely effeminate with willowy figures and delicately handsome faces. Their leather jerkins were of a dusty green and blended perfectly with the surrounding forest, and beneath them at the neck he could see a glimmer of sparkling silver-blue; a tunic of the most beautiful fabric. It corresponded with the gleam of their eyes and contrasted in angelic beauty with the spun-gold of their flowing hair, which was bound in braids on either side of their heads. Strapped to each of their backs was an exquisite bow and full quiver, and the taller elf carried a pair of slender, ornately-handled knives.

They spoke to themselves as they went slowly to the water's edge, long legs taking graceful, twin strides as they walked and making no sound even on dry dead leaves. The language was as beautiful and graceful as their appearances, flowing from their tongues like a spring. Arad didn't make a sound as they passed him, thanking the heavens for their mercy as they wandered away from him, further upstream.

After a few minutes, the young man felt confident enough in his patch of mosses to peer carefully over the large roots. The taller elf was sitting comfortably on a large boulder about ten meters away, one leg braced against the rock and the other dangling towards the water, his soft suede boots not even scraping as he moved. The shorter elf was sitting cross-legged on the bank, conversing softly with his friend. Apparently the two Eldar were merely having a quiet day out, just as he had been.

Then Arad was surprised to hear them say something he recognized.

"But I can't do that to him, my friend. He is but a child," the taller elf spoke sternly. "You cannot punish the many for the sins of the few. It is not his fault that he is human." For a moment the boy's heart was in his mouth, thinking that he had been seen. But then his companion answered him.

"I know, my lord," the shorter replied, switching to Westron as well. His expression was troubled. "But... I cannot help but see how it bothers you. If Estel makes you uncomfortable, you should not have to associate with--"

"It is not the boy that makes me uncomfortable," he interrupted. "My own memories make it so. It is up to me to rid myself of them. It would not be fair for me to alienate him simply because of his bloodline. Besides, Estel is as close to Elven as you can get in a human."

The short elf said something under his breath in elvish, and the taller laughed happily, but abruptly the two were silent in mid-laugh, and went still as death. Arad had just begun to lose some of his fear, entranced and fascinated by the two elves' discourse, when a growl sounded somewhere behind him. The boy looked to his right-- and screamed in terror as a drooling, snarling creature breathed hot air into his face from above.

A warg of unbelievable size was looming over this new, easy human meal and savoring the moment. Choosing present danger over uncertain fears, Arad scrambled over the roots toward the strangers and tripped, falling flat on his stomach. Both beings had already risen and in a flash had shot from their seats, pelting up the bank to his aid. The tall elf had both knives out and ready with his companion at his back, bow notched with a smooth, glistening arrow.

"Help me! Please!" Arad yelled pleadingly, his eyes flowing with tears as the creature laid a plate-sized paw on his back, ready to rip the skin from his bones. Claws extended from musty fur, the points pressing into him--

The boy blinked and the short elf's arrow was missing. The warg howled in earsplitting pain; Arad turned to see yellow feathers protruding-- just barely-- from its ham-sized shoulder, the tip poking out of its back through the shoulder blade on the other side. The young man stumbled, dragging himself away from the writhing monster behind him, and the short elf pulled the young human up into his arms, away from the attacking beast.

The tall elf was already engaged in combat with the warg, slashing from all directions and driving the dark beast back with a flurry of swift strikes, making him fall. Arad had never seen anyone move so fast. A screeching cry of pain ripped from the warg's throat, and in sudden retaliation he lashed out furiously from the dirt, tearing a long gash in the blond being's chest before he could dodge.

"Legolas!" the elf screamed, tightening his hold on the boy. Arad looked on in horror from his rescuer's arms as the tall Elf was knocked off his feet and into a tree trunk, crumpling to the ground like a rag doll.

Before the boy could react, the warg was on its feet and charging them. The short elf leapt into the air, reaching upward for the branches of the tall trees, but his eyes were unsure; he could not leave his prince thus. The effort was futile, however, as in his anger the creature jumped up and caught the ethereal being in the back, its sharp claws rending his flesh like paper. The elf cried out and fell hard to the earth, knocked to the floor. He cradled the unknown human protectively beneath him as the warg towered over them in triumph.

"No!" A scream that sounded unnatural from such a kind, gentle voice echoed over stone and brook, into the forest.

The elf was doubled over on top of him, sheltering Arad from the beast's powerful blows and gasping in pain. Arad felt warm blood drench his clothing and soak into his skin, wracking shudders overtaking him as he felt the two of them almost lifted into the air by strong jaws. Terror was choking him, making him retch; he knew the end was near.

The boy heard a twanging sound and a swift whistle before the warg fell like a puppet whose final string had been cut. The ground shook with the weight of the animal as it collapsed, holed through the heart by Legolas' arrow.

In seconds the boy felt the elf's weight leave him, pulled off by his companion. "Telerin? Telerin!" Legolas' voice rose with panic.

For a few moments Arad lay there shivering, his breathing heavy with fear and adrenaline as he observed the giant, black beast lying dead behind him. After gaining back some level of breath, he pushed himself up shakily on his arms, looking around to see the tall elf holding his friend in his arms, lying propped up in his lap.

"Telerin don't leave, do not leave me my friend, hold on!" he begged him, fear taking root in the blond being's eyes. "Telerin-- Stay awake, mellon-nin!"

"--Nn-- I am sorry, my prince--" the shorter elf rasped, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. The beautiful eyes were already beginning to glaze over. "I have failed-- I have failed you--"

"No, Telerin--"

"--I-- wished-- to serve you longer, my lord--" he managed, watering eyes spilling tears. "But-- at least-- we saved the boy-- I had to do it, Legolas, I had to save the boy--" The elf coughed up a mouthful of blood as it came up his throat, trembling with cold and weakness. A smile spread across his face as he gazed at his prince through sightless eyes. "I have-- obeyed your wishes, my lord--" He chuckled softly. "--Do not-- punish-- the many for-- the sins of the few-- hm?"

"Telerin," Legolas choked, wrapping him tighter into his embrace.

"Arad?! Arad, where are you?"

"Speak up, boy, if you c'n hear us!"

"Arad! Son, answer me!"

That voice startled Arad out of his trance, and he realized his father and the other eleven hunters were quickly approaching them. The sounds of the battle must have caught their attention and drawn them back to the village.

Alerenn was the leader of the twelve hunters in their village, and he knew his son's voice the moment he'd heard him cry out. Arad's scream had scared the living daylights out of him, and the man had immediately insisted they turn from their hunt and head for the brook. Now the dozen Men stood at the forest's edge, watching Arad in surprise and shock as they registered the blood soaking his clothing.

"Arad, what happened?! How did--?" Alerenn stepped forward quickly, his green and tan clothing showing up well on the light stone bank. His eyes were greatly worried, and his voice was harsh as he knelt and began feeling the child's body for wounds. "Where are you hurt, my son?"

"I'm-- not hurt, father," he told him squeakily, his eyes following the forest line until they reached his rescuers.

Alerenn followed his gaze, and a short gasp escaped him, brow furrowing, eyes widening. "Elves," he muttered.

The other hunters were surrounding them immediately, drawing arrows and swords hastily. "Everyone hold your fire," Alerenn shouted. "Hold! Restrain them until I direct you further." The man turned to his son. "Arad. You are not hurt?"

"No, father," Arad shook his head vigorously, hoping his body was telling him what his shock-clouded mind could not seem to express. "They-- That warg attacked-- They saved me, father, the shorter elf-- He shielded me with his body--"

"Telerin, please," Legolas said frantically, eyes riveted on the dying elf in his arms. Arad and his father watched the scene unfold before them, and it spoke more clearly than anything Arad could have said. Telerin had begun convulsing weakly, his hand reaching spasmodically for his lord's. Legolas saw the wandering hand and grabbed it, holding it fiercely yet tenderly to his chest. The raw fear in the elf's eyes was scaring Arad, almost worse than the warg. It wasn't right that such a being should have to experience such a horrible thing.

"M-My lord," the stricken elf breathed. "I-- cannot--"

"Telerin, you have to live," Legolas pleaded futilely. "You must see the White Shores, my friend. We will see them together, years and years from now!"

Telerin shook his head. "No... I will-- be s-seeing them sooner..."

"Telerin!"

The hunters exchanged uncertain glances with one another. Alerenn motioned that they should lower their weapons, carefully. It didn't appear as though the strangers were going to be much of a threat, and slowly each man complied, keeping arrows at the ready should they be needed. The taller elf was holding his friend's head against his, tucked beneath his chin, his body was securely trapped in his arms... Alas, his spirit was not. As Legolas watched, Telerin's breath eased out, and he ceased to shiver.

Legolas face screwed up in pain, his head bowing. Telerin was gone.

Arad felt tears pour down his face, and despite the hunters standing nearby, he felt no shame; at least, not in the tears. One of the magnificent elves was dead, and it was all his fault. Alerenn stepped forward warily, stopping at the elf's hunched shoulders.

Legolas knew the Men were there, but everything was blocked out from the pain of losing Telerin. His left arm held his companion, refusing to let go, and his right hand lifted to cover his face, holding his head in his palm and shielding him from view with a curtain of golden hair. Sobs built in his chest that refused to be released, and the pressure in his lungs was crushing.

"Sir," Aleren tried quietly, placing a hand tentatively on the elf's shoulder, "I am sorry."

For a moment there was no answer.

"You cannot understand."

"I have lost loved ones in my time as well. I can guess," Aleren said in a subdued tone. "Please sir, my son and I are grateful to you for what you and your friend have done. Let us bring you to our village. We will bury your friend."

"No," Legolas shook his head.

The hunter was slightly confused, but then he saw his arm still wrapped around the body. "I understand. Would you like us to help you bring him to the village?" He waited patiently, allowing the being time to collect himself. The signs of trauma and shock were all too clear.

Legolas' hand gradually lowered, and slowly he looked up at the man with reddened eyes, face bathed in tears. "You do not know what it is like. He was my first friend as a child," he told him, glassy eyes searching for some understanding in the mortal's gaze. "I have lived with him for over two thousand years."

Aleren's eyes widened in shock and he turned to look at his son. Arad was as undeniably floored as he was. If knowing someone, loving someone for a century and then losing them was bad... how could the elf stand this? The implications alone sent a pang through Arad's young, tender heart.

"I cannot leave him," Legolas finished, taking a deep, shuddering breath and returning his gaze to his friend's still features.

"Of course," Aleren managed. "If... If you will come with us, we will take you to our home."

"I thank you," Legolas replied softly.

Wiping tears from his eyes, he tried to rise and lift the body, but then a sharp, ripping pain in his chest sent him crashing to the floor with a gasp, the two hunters nearest scrambling to catch him before he hit stone. One man with a dark beard caught the lifeless corpse and raised it up. "Hunh," the man sounded surprised. "He don't hardly weigh nothin' at all."

"Father!" Arad yelled, remembering. "He's hurt! The warg got him in the chest, I saw it!"

Aleren looked down at the elf panting in his comrade's arms and saw that indeed, not all blood there was from the dead elf. "Take him to my house," he ordered. "Bring the other."

Arad followed the man holding Legolas as the hunters departed, and watched as his face creased in pain. "Don't die," Arad asked him under his breath. "Please don't die." The elf's blue eyes opened and locked onto his. Arad realized suddenly that he must have heard him, and for a few moments as the man moved along, that piercing gaze held him, and he blushed with embarrassment.

The boy was startled when Legolas brushed two fingers briefly across his face. Before the golden-haired elf slipped away into unconsciousness, Arad thought he heard him say one more word.

"Estel..."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Well? Likey? No likey?

I am NOT-- repeat-- NOT giving up The Firstborn at Helm's Deep. The computer totally crashed and we had to get a whole new hard drive, so while I didn't lose what I wrote thanks to back up, I had to wait until we had a word processor that could read. I want it to have a lot of happenings in it as well; thank my friend David for a whole new part I added. Everyone who was wondering what Elrond is doing will be quite happy.

Mata!

Want more?

REVIEW!


	2. Why?

5/4/05

NOTE:

Friends, I must tell yo know, I apologize for the false update... BUT I'M GOING TO JAPAN!

I will be there from late June to mid-August and will post something of both my LotR fics before leaving, and definitely write while I'm there. But GAAAH! I'M GOING! I have hero-worshipped this culture for so long, I've been trying to get over there for 6 years and now, FINALLY, I'M GOINGGG!

I love you all!

Em

3/28/05

Wow, you guys! The reviews and response were AMAZING! Thank you so much! I'll try and respond to everyone next chappie, but I'd rather have more room for the writing you guys seem to like!

Quote of the year (in my opinion):

(Sorry, I just thought that this was hilarious; I actually heard Orlando say it in the commentary)

"...I mean, if Peter told me that Legolas was gonna be running around naked at that point, I probably would have stripped off and started skipping a jingo, d'you know what I mean? ...We were all such, sort of, 'Jackson followers' that he could have said anything and you'd go 'Yeah, sure. So at this point, Aragorn grabs Legolas and tongues him' and you'd go ' ohh, ahh, yeah, that makes sense.'" -- .' Orlando in the LotR 3 extended version commentary.

(A/N: Maeri's name is pronounced "Mary". And this is pre-LotR.)

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

IMMORTAL STRANGER

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

CHAPTER TWO

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Where is that boy? I'll kill him when he gets back, I really will!"

Maeri, Arad's mother, was not exactly what one would call 'happy' right now. A short, plump woman of about thirty, she looked nothing more than a normal villager. Arad, however, knew better than to think that when she was angry. Her dark auburn hair was often a reflection of her temper and spirit, and her green eyes blazed dangerously as she stalked out of the house, skirts flaring.

"Has anyone seen Arad?" Maeri called out into the street, a rag dangling from her hand. The children and adolescents mulling 'round the dirt path shrugged their shoulders, answering negative. "Oooh, I will get him when he gets back," she fumed. 'Honestly, leaving without giving any kind of notice or telling me when he'd be home... If he does it again there'll be trouble, I swear it!'

In reality, Maeri was a kind, good-natured woman. She had a very short fuse when it came to nonsense, but her spirit was bright and her passion deep. It was this fire that had made her husband fall in love with her, and in their younger days they had kept each other on their toes with humor and tricks. Theirs was a bond of mutual respect and friendship, and as a wife she had always been neat and happy in her work.

However, because of her spirit and quick mind, Maeri found flaws (in the household) very quickly. Thus, scolding was one of her favorite pastimes. Currently, dirty rooms were her favorite pet peeve, and her oldest son had just brought her wrath down upon himself.

Before he'd left the house that morning, Arad had managed to accomplish the miraculous feat practically every twelve-year-old boy was famous for: utter destruction in his wake. The sheets in Arad's room were completely unmade, a pile of his dirty laundry was spreading like a monster over a good bit of the house, and to top it off, the breakfast dishes were still on the table, covered in crumbs. Maeri had sworn silently to herself, trying to keep her annoyance at bay, but then she had tripped on a pair of his muddy boots just inside the door.

If it had been physically possible for steam to come out of her ears, it would have.

"Aaah! ARAD! Where is that blasted boy!"

"Mama! Mama!" A small, tow-headed girl of six came rushing through the front door, tripping on the top step and dragging a doll behind her. It was Maeri's daughter, Kit. The name was short for Katerin; the nickname had stuck after the young one's pronunciation had not been up to the task. "Mama! Daddy's back! Daddy's back with Awad!"

Maeri silently rejoiced, wringing the rag in her hands like a whip.

The woman abruptly noticed that her child was almost in tears, and her ire disappeared. "Kit? What's wrong, sweetheart?" Maeri knelt and gathered her child into her arms and against her shoulder, patting her back as she clung to her.

"There's dead people, mama," she whimpered. "They're all ripped up."

Maeri's blood froze. "Dead people?"

"Mama, they look scary. I don't wanna see them anymore," the child sobbed.

'Arad... Alerenn... what happened?' Maeri held the child close to her bosom and swiftly ran outside, leaving her dishrag lying discarded in the middle of the floor.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

People were backing away swiftly from the approaching hunters, retreating into shops and whispering ominously to each other. Alerenn led the way back into the village on the dirt path, followed closely by two men.

One, a dark-bearded man named Haln, held someone that was unmistakably dead; his chest and back were decorated with deep teethmarks and covered in blood. His face and head were wrapped in a cloth, completely shielded from view. Another hunter, the man closest to Alerenn, held someone else bundled in a cloak, and nothing could be seen of them but their legs. The thick green fabric was stained darkly with blood, and it was obvious that the person had been sorely wounded.

As the rest of the group trudged into the square, Arad was revealed to be standing behind his father. There was a scream from the crowd as his mother caught sight of his clothing.

"ARAD!"

The woman had left her daughter with a friend in the crowd and was running frantically to meet him. The blood that was still bright on his clothing had scared her to death, and she was so shaken that her knees almost gave out before she reached him. Maeri was all over him, pulling his clothes, grabbing him by the arms, looking him over and over and screeching in panic all the while. "Arad, what happened! Where are you hurt! What were you doing out there..."

"Mother, please," Arad interrupted, rather embarrassed by the scene. "I'm fine, it isn't... it isn't my blood."

"Not...?" Maeri saw the limp body of the elf whose face was wrapped, and she paled slightly. "Arad, what happened?" she whispered.

"I'll tell you later Mum. Please, we have to get them inside," he urged her, his eyes pleading for compliance.

The woman saw the look on her son's face and knew that he had somehow transformed into an adult for the moment. This request was important, and so, despite her overwhelming need to know what was going on, she followed Arad's wishes. "Very well. Hurry up then, let's get back inside the house." She looked behind them and shared a brief look with her husband before taking Arad by the shoulders and leading him away.

"I'll take him from here," Alerenn told his subordinate, motioning for Haln to follow.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Now, young man, first of all, what were you doing out in the woods alone?" Maeri began, glad to be back in control of the family... or so she thought. "You know you have to tell me where you're heading before running around by yourself!" Seeing Arad with his clothing completely soaked in blood had nearly given her a coronary. Now Maeri was more than happy to vent her fright on his misbehaviour.

"Mother, please, not now!" Arad said sharply, lifting his eyes to the door as she stripped off his damp shirt. "You don't understand! We have to help him!"

"Maeri, I need you over here," Alerenn called just as sharply, striding past her and laying the cloaked body down on the fresh linens covering the bed. "He's wounded; I need you to help me patch him up."

"Oh, Good heavens," Maeri breathed as Alerenn removed the cloak from Legolas' body, revealing the elf's majestic person. "Alerenn..."

The Firstborn moaned, twisting slightly as consciousness returned to him, along with the pain. Arad, Maeri and Alerenn didn't dare make a sound as the elf awoke, breath hitching slightly when he tried to move his shoulders. His eyelids cracked open, revealing the tortured crystal-blue orbs beneath, moving rapidly over them as they stood above the bed. "W-what... where?" he rasped softly, bleary and uncomprehending, his forehead slick with sweat and creased in pain. A small sliver of memory returned to him through the haze and his heart contracted. "Telerin..."

"Shh, lie still, master elf," Alerenn placated, gently pressing him back to the pillow when he tried to rise. "You've been injured. We're going to try and help you. Just relax."

"Telerin... Telerin, where are y-you?" The elf's deep yet confused gaze searched the room in vain for his companion.

Alerenn's heart clenched. 'He's delirious. He doesn't remember losing the other one. Valar, what am I to do?' "Please sir, don't move, it will only make the pain worse," the hunter told him, both hands on his shoulders to keep him immobile.

"Where... where is he?" A new thought came to the blond being. His eyes narrowed dangerously as they focused on the human. "Y-you're keeping me f-from him! Wh-where is he?"

Alerenn looked up sharply at his wife, his gaze saying clearly that she should stand back. Maeri grabbed Arad and pulled him away from the bedside, ignoring his soft protest. If the elf should try to attack him, Alerenn was fairly sure he could take it, but that was no reason for him to involve his family.

"No, master elf, we are not. Your friend is dead," the hunter told him softly. "You could not see him if you tried." Behind the elf's head he gently eased the bow and quiver out of reach, placing them under the bed. The knives were trapped under his back, so Alerenn figured he probably wouldn't be able to use them.

"N-no," Legolas shook his head, his breath catching in a sob. His hands braced Alerenn's wrists as he held the elf pinned to the bed by his upper arms, too weak to fight back or even move. "No... Wh-where are you? Telerin..."

Just then, Haln came in, carrying the other elf, and he placed him on the cot at Legolas' feet, drawing his knife swiftly. "Everything alright, Allie?" he asked softly, eyes trained on the taut elf in the bed. No one noticed Legolas' gaze light on the body and spark with recognition.

"Everything's fine, I just-"

"TELERIN!"

In a sudden burst of strength Legolas sat up and tore his way out of Alerenn's grasp, leaning forward and hunching over the prostrate body at his feet in one flash of movement...

...and was shortly frozen in place as the point of Haln's knife disappeared into his chest.

Maeri screamed. Arad was clutched against her, his eyes full of fear for the elf; he couldn't believe it. Haln was frozen in surprise, eyebrows raised as far as they could go, soft brown eyes as big as dinner plates, mouth dropped open in horror. His hand slid off the handle of the knife and he backed up a pace, trying to find his voice. The elf's shining eyes met his, looking up from where they'd been fixed on the dagger in his body, and a sad, silent question lay there as clearly as if it had been spoken, made worse by the innocence in his gaze:

Why?

Alerenn bowled the other man over, sending him sprawling on his back and supporting the fair being against his chest before he could fall directly on top of Telerin. His eyes had widened and filled to the brim with shock and pain, and his head finally lolled forward over Alerenn's shoulder as he went limp with weakness. A soft cry escaped his lips as the agony flooded through him, no longer dulled by surprise.

The hunter was beyond furious. He turned his head and lit into the man beside him with a severe verbal lashing. "HALN! What in the seven hells did you think you were doing!" he roared. "You may well have killed the man who saved my son!"

The dark-bearded man was deeply shaken, staring up in horror from the floor. "I-I... H-he c-came at me," Haln stammered.

"He wanted to see the other elf! He was hallucinating! You IMBECILE!" Alerenn would have killed the man in his rage right then and there, had he a weapon. "Find me a needle and thread, clean cloths and bindings in the next ten seconds and I might not have you whipped!" the hunter snarled.

In his haste, Haln stumbled and nearly fell on his face on his way out the door.

The human returned his attention to the stricken being lying against his chest, and saw that Legolas was starting to gasp thickly. His bloody fingers were wrapped in a deathgrip around Alerenn's shoulder, the other hand curling uselessly around the knife in his chest. Alerenn slowly pulled the blond away from him so that he could see the dagger more clearly, hesitating for only a moment before placing his own fingers around those of the elf.

A deep breath was his only indication before he swiftly yanked the dagger out of him.

The sudden move startled the already traumatized Firstborn and he exhaled sharply, jerking in response, looking questioningly at Alerenn, wondering why he'd hurt him. Blood was dribbling down his body from the wound, his face white, slightly parted lips moving in silent words.

"Oh no," Alerenn breathed, watching as more red droplets collected. Legolas was whispering in Elvish under his breath, a string of words similar to the cadence of prayer, and his hands were clamped tight around the other man's wrists. Their eyes met, and the unspoken plea for help in the wet, blue gaze tore at his heart.

Alerenn lowered him gently but quickly to the bed, taking care not to touch the wound. "Maeri, help me!"

The woman rushed forward and helped her husband cut away the leather jerkin and unbutton the silvery tunic. Arad watched in silent agony as the elf's eyes found his, his head turning towards him in a spasm of pain.

The boy was miserable. 'I'm sorry. Forgive me,' he implored mentally. 'Please, I didn't mean for anything to happen.' Legolas' hand reached toward him again, and this time he took it, giving him what comfort he could. He heard it again, clearly this time:

"E-Estel... Estel..."

"Father, what does 'Estel' mean?" Arad turned to his father, watching as he cleaned and dressed his savior's wounds.

The man did not look up. "I believe it meant something like 'dream', or... no, hope? Yes, that was it. Hope." He stole a glance at Arad and managed a smile before being completely reabsorbed into his work. "Seems he hasn't given up yet, hm?"

"I dunno. I hope not."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Three hours later, Legolas was deep in the realm of unconsciousness, his face as pale as death. The only thing Alerenn was glad to see was that it was still light out. That meant he would be able to see the pallor of the elf's skin and the condition of his wounds without candles. Candle light also gave things a golden tint, and if there was an infection, the telltale yellow-grey coloring would be harder to see.

"Well, at least his breathing is stable," Alerenn sighed, mopping his sweaty face and wiping bloodied hands on a wet rag.

"I've never seen someone last this long after a stabbing," Maeri commented softly. "He's hardy, that's for sure."

"Yes... If he starts convulsing again or his breathing gets shallow, come an' get me. I need to go wash up." Alerenn kissed Maeri briefly and took his leave, rebuttoning his vest on the way to the wash-basin.

Arad quickly took the vacated seat and examined Legolas thoroughly. White cotton was stained deeply with ruby-red. His bare torso was heaving in strained, wheezing breaths, his face and shoulders shining with perspiration from the pain. One look at the tortured form on the bed left Arad awash in empathy and guilt. One of the elf's hands was gripping the edge of the wooden bed frame, knuckles white and shaking.

"He's not doing so good, mother," Arad commented bleakly. "What can we do?"

"I think we've done all we can, Arad," she replied gently, wiping her hands on a dishrag and throwing a blanket over the elf's shivering body. Maeri took a place next to him in the vacant chair, and gazed thoughtfully on the fair being. "Poor dear. I only wish we could have kept him from this."

"I know. Me too." Arad was silent awhile. "The other elf... Telerin, he called him... He saved my life, mother. There was a warg on the path near the stream, and he shielded me with himself. The creature killed him, mother; on top of me..." Tears were gathering in the boy's eyes and Maeri leaned towards him to take him in her arms, pressing him to her bosom.

"Oh, my baby boy," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I am eternally gratefully to them for sending me back my child."

"T...lr...n..." The pair of humans turned back towards him at the whisper of air from the blond being's mouth. "Te... Tele... rin... Telerin..."

"He thinks of no one else," Maeri mused. "We couldn't give him what he gave us: his loved one."

"He said," Arad remembered, "he said that... that the other one... the one near the bed... he said they'd been friends for two thousand years. Can you imagine that, mother? I mean, knowing your best friend for that long and just... losing them like that--"

Maeri shook her head, partially in sadness, partially in surprise at the number of years. Legolas had started tossing and turning under the sheets once again and she laid a cool hand on his forehead to comfort him. The movement stilled somewhat, as he murmured something like, "Naneth..." Maeri knew about as much of Elvish as she knew of wargish, but the tone and similar sound told her enough.

"It'll be alright, dear," she soothed him. "Don't worry. You'll be safe here."

'Or so we thought,' Arad thought bitterly. 'That stupid Haln... Why would he just go off like that without a thought!' Arad watched despairingly as the Firstborn moaned again. 'They've saved my life and all I've managed to do is hurt them... I can't let him die! I can't!' The boy sat glued to his chair and prepared to wait out the long hours before Legolas would stabilize.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Alerenn was seething.

Haln's humiliation was going to be harsh and extremely public; he'd made sure of that. To start with, the chief hunter was giving him a demotion in status and a dressing down that would have cracked a brass monkey... in front of the entire village. The mayor had looked on silently, giving his approval to his number-one in command before he burned his subordinate's dignity like a wisp of hay in a bonfire.

"You may have killed him! This man was an innocent, and more than that, he'd already given up his kin to save someone who was no relation to him whatsoever!" Alerenn shouted in his face, circling the man like a green-cloaked vulture. "I owe him my son's life, and you have forced me to repay him with a death sentence!" This thread of reprimand had been going on for the past twenty minutes straight, and Alerenn was growing weary.

He concluded the briefing swiftly and effectively. "You will be on probation for the next three months, with only the lowest-ranking duties to perform. On top of accomplishing these, you will be required up before dawn for extra farm work and after nightfall to groom and feed the horses. All of them," he said pointedly. "And cleaning the stalls. You may leave, and be grateful I didn't kill you for your thoughtlessness."

The people watched in awe as the man nodded slightly and left the circle, head bowed.

The mayor of the small town waited until the majority of the townsfolk had dispersed and sauntered over to where the chief hunter had stopped, catching is breath. He waited patiently for Alerenn to face him before he voiced his question. "What are we going to do with him?" the plump man asked, motioning with his chin at Alerenn's cottage. "Is he holding on?"

"We were lucky. The area he'd been stabbed in was just between everything vital, but he also has a great deal of strength," Alerenn reported. "I'm not sure what else I should be doing."

The mayor sighed and rubbed his greying beard. "Well, I know what else you can be doing," he remarked. "Before all this started up, I was going to have you greet our new arrivals."

"New arrivals?" Alerenn echoed, confused.

"Tomorrow we have a group of officials from a nearby town coming in for trade, and apparently they would like to ask permission for one of their children to visit our village on a daily basis. It seems that he's the only one of his age where he lives, and his father would like him to have some playmates. I believe he's about the same age as your Arad, Alerenn," he commented. "It would be nice for you to meet them, if you're not too busy." His tone suggested he understood if he was; the elf could fail at any time. "Perhaps you and Arad could accompany them for an hour or so?"

Alerenn sighed deeply; he didn't want to leave his son's rescuer any more than he had to. "I'll see about it first thing in the morning, depending on how he's holding up. "

"I understand. Good day, Alerenn." 'Good day, he says.'

The hunter made his way slowly with dragging steps back to his cottage. The days events had wasted him, and yelling his brains out at Haln hadn't helped either. The man was usually reliable and quite friendly; he hadn't wanted to do that to him. Point of fact, he probably felt worse about the stabbing than any punishment could force him to be, but Alerenn had to send a message to his men: regardless of race, you don't just knife someone without good reason.

Sighing deeply, the chief hunter ascended the front steps of their home, preparing to wait out the night.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

3/28/05

I am SOOOOO sorry! I know, I know, lateness, but I have reasons!

My good friend the Consul-General of Japan is leaving for Tokyo on February 22nd, so we've been visiting a lot, I just got the part of the mean orphanage caretaker Miss Hannigan in Annie with a local community theatre company, (my FIRST role in anything theatrical), I just had my first private art lesson today with my brother, and we are going to Italy for Gramma's 70th birthday for two weeks at the beginning of March! PLUS... I still am waiting to hear if I got the scholarship to go to Japan for two months in April, and IT'S DRIVING ME NUTS. Oh yes, and did I mention school? - -;

I think I'm getting sick, and I need a little cheering up right now. Please feel free to leave reviews, preferably of an amiable nature? And P.S., no, I am NOT just being mean. This chapter needed to happen; it's foreshadowing. Everyone, say it with me: "Foreshadowing."

Ta!


	3. New Arrivals, Mutual Secrets

Dear fans, if you only loved me and not the story I would be flattered, but I know that's not the case. So, here's the chappie without any crap. Reviews WILL be answered. Eventually. Maybe at the end of the chappie.

MY APOLOGIES for the no-updating! I am eighteen now though, you know? I have to worry about college and jobs AND I JUST GOT MY SCHOLARSHIP TO JAPAN! Gimme a break! (And STILL no license, or even a PERMIT...)

Sorry.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

CHAPTER THREE

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

'Oh Valar, please. End it now.'

Legolas was only vaguely aware of his surroundings. It looked as though his world now consisted of a blanket, a pillow, and a chair. A chair with someone in it. He was staring at them intently, eyes blurred; he just couldn't seem to make his eyes focus. Sweat would pour into them on occasion, but it was usually wiped away by the person in the chair. The elf was too tired now to move, to lash out, but the pain was incredible. On occasion a sudden, sharp burst would make his hands jerk involuntarily, increasing his grip on the blanket, but he could do no more.

"Nn... ahh!" White hot agony flared in his chest and he choked on air, convulsing with one cough, then another, then a gasp as starbursts appeared in his vision. The stab wound had done much damage, but the fever raging through him hurt almost as badly. His body was badly damaged and he wasn't about to get away with no ill effect to his system.

"Poor thing," someone lamented. "Here, drink this." The disembodied voice was accompanied by the curved ridge of a ceramic cup touching his lips. The cool liquid inside it wet his skin and he automatically craned his neck to reach it, gulping without hesitation. "Slowly, slowly," the voice admonished him. Sure enough, the quick intake made him sputter, and the sharp coughing reawakened the pain.

"Ahh! Valar... saes," he rasped, nearly sobbing.

Cool hands held him gently. "Shh, don't move, shh... Arad, give me the cloth again, dear."

"Is he going to die?" The younger voice sounded slightly tired, but mostly saddened and laden with... guilt, perhaps?

"Not if the fever breaks, dear. It may take a while though, and we must keep him hydrated."

A thought occurred to the delirious firstborn, and he questioned the voice quietly, opening his eyes forcibly and blinking as he turned his head on the sweat-soaked pillow. "Estel? Est... Estel, is that you...?" He strained to clear his eyes.

"M-me?" the voice stammered, seeming startled. "N-no. I-I'm... Arad. My name's Arad."

"...Ara... Arad?"

"Y-yes, sir elf."

"You are Men." The tone was flat, but undertoned with something vaguely apprehensive.

"Um... yes, sir elf."

So he wasn't with Elrond. And these were humans. An involuntary shiver rippled through him, and he turned his head back to lie flat on the bed. He was lucid enough now to feel their eyes on him, and he willed his body to still. Before slipping away into soft folds of darkness, he remembered himself and forced out one last sentence, one that made the mother and child look to each other in surprise:

"I... I thank... you."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Pale morning light snaked through the thick-leaved branches, finding a quartet of riders traveling silently in the midst of the trees.

Silently, save for one.

The horse was fidgeting underneath an adolescent boy; he could feel the movement beneath the saddle as it rocked. Luthien, a white filly barely out of childhood, (and a gift from his father,) was completely unused to traveling so near the human villages. Unlike Lord Elrond and his chestnut stallion, who were handling the basically flat forest terrain with relative grace and ease, the twelve-year-old was having a bit of a time with her, and she was getting almost as annoyed with him as he was her. The two elven servants behind him were, of course, having no trouble with their mounts, but their snickering was getting harder and harder to keep inaudible.

"Ada, maybe you should speak to her," he called, trying not to fall off as she reared a bit. "She- just won't calm down."

Elrond tried not to smile as he "whoop"ed and wavered back and forth in the leather saddle, one hand thrown up to keep balance, trying to stay on and not get thrown off as she pranced even more, and tossed her head with a shrill whinny. "Come," the elf said softly, and his stallion moved to flank his son's mount, his robes flowing in curtains over the horse's back and flanks. Putting a hand on the filly's smooth white forehead, Elrond whispered a single word to her, and she quieted immediately.

"I wish I knew what you keep telling her," the boy grumbled. "I'd use it during equitation lessons with Lord Glorfindel."

"It's not the words that calm her, my son, it is the tone and the weight behind them," the elf lord said sternly.

"Oh. I see," he said thoughtfully. Then he paused. "...So, it's kind of like when you give me that 'You've-done-something-and-it-needs-to-stop-or-there'll-be-trouble' look, and only say my name?"

This time Elrond did actually smile, and he felt the trees smiling with him."Not exactly, Estel, but you've got the gist of it."

He squirmed again, but this time it was not because of the horse. "Father, must I go to stay with these... humans? I... I-I don't mind them, but... It's just, different. They're clumsy, and the tongue is so strange..."

"Yes, my son. But as you are one of them and will need to associate with them as you grow older, it is necessary that you learn their tongue and their customs, and learn them well," Lord Elrond told the boy. "It is imperative that we have someone who can prevent ignorance of the Firstborn from being such a common occurance in Men, and it cannot be an elf." The pale elf ruffled his foster child's hair affectionately. "You are more vital in that relationship than you yet realize, my Hope." Estel did not know his true heritage, but Elrond knew he would have to be told later. Now, the best thing would be to get him accustomed to living in the world of Men.

However, this kind of statement from Elrond was not going to go unquestioned. "But Ada, if I'm supposed to help them learn more about us, then why can't I tell them that we're a race of elves?"

"Because, Estel, you may not be well received," he admonished him, eyes dark and dead serious. "You must learn of them first. Find out what their views are about us. If they are good, or at least open-minded, then we can use that to our advantage in our relationships with them, make them see that we are not evil, or cursed, or whatever else they believe."

"Cursed?" Estel's eyes were wide pools of blue. "Why would we be cursed?"

Elrond's smile returned, as was common when conversing with Estel. "Ignorance breeds fear and contempt, my son. They do not have to know a race to fear it, even to hate it."

The child bit his tongue and tried to digest all he had said. It made pretty good sense, actually. But then, the dam broke:

"...Can I still take baths while I'm there?"

The forest leaves shivered with humor. It took all of Elrond's hard-won restraint as an elf lord to keep from laughing. The two servants finally snorted aloud and the group moved through the trees, accompanied by sweet elven laughter.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Stars were beginning to dance around the blond being's head. The colors were dazzling, and he was losing his sense of time completely. He no longer knew where he was. He had awoken from unconsciousness only minutes ago, and the pain was growing so bad that he couldn't even remember his own name.

But one name stuck fast within his mind.

"Estel... Estel!" Legolas breathing had quickened, and his airway had swollen so much that it took all the strength he had just to fill his lungs. Breathing was an agonizing affair, and his eyes felt scorched from fever. Everything burned with a fire that seemed unquenchable. "Ahhh- Estel!"

( The boy was young, unimaginably so compared to him. But still, his innocent smile belied his treacherous ancestry. The young human had won him over almost immediately.

'My name's Estel. What's yours?' The boy seemed engrossed in building a sort of little craft; an art project of leaves and various organic odds and ends.

The elven prince knew he appeared to be half-asleep, but he was watching the young human carefully. Even if he was a human, he was cute, he supposed. And the wind was quite relaxing in the branch he had chosen. 'You may call me Legolas, young one.'

'Legolas. I like that name,' the boy replied, not looking up from his apparently serious work. 'You're all over here.'

That statement was rather odd, and it caught him off-guard. 'What?' The word popped out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

The young human freed a hand to point at a nearby tree. 'There's a greenleaf, and there's a greenleaf, and there's a green leaf... There's lots of you.'

That made him laugh in its obviousness. It seemed Elrond had taught him well in language. His elvish was quite impeccable, especially at so young an age. 'So I see,' he acknowledged. What a funny child...

But he was already back at his work. 'I'd like it if we got to be friends. That way, even if you went home, I could still see you,' the boy added. Legolas found himself smiling again.

He is very kind. I feel it. The forest feels it as well. 'I would like that too, young one,' he found himself admitting.

At this the boy dropped his project and looked up, a grin of admirable proportions on his tiny features. 'Does that mean we can be friends?'

The look was so pleased and so hopeful that he gave up all pretense of seriousness and laughed outright. 'But of course!' he told him.)-

Shortly after that, just before dinner in the great hall, Elrond had pulled him aside and told him of the boy's true lineage, and how he must not know his heritage as of yet. Even before this, though, Legolas knew he could not shun the child because of his race. He was too small, too unassuming, and just too pleasant to be around. He had promised Elrond he would look after him, and never tell him of his parentage until he gave him leave. The few short weeks spent in Rivendell had formed a close bond between them, and even though he was only six, the dark-headed child learned quickly and was unusually curious about everything.

And of course, he was just so charismatically adorable that anything he did made you laugh. A single word said in elvish was garbled in such a way that it made your heart melt. That was six years ago, and he had visited them only briefly since then. But still, their friendship had remained, and the innocent boy had been of great solace to the weary elf.

Now though, his only consolation was the lingering memory of that innocence.

"AHHH!" The cry rang through the rafters of the small house.

Oh, Valar, the pain! His body twisted in agony and he cried out with heart-rending sob, tangled in a knot of damp sheets. "Estel! HELP ME!" A blinding flash of light went off behind his eyes and he sank back onto the bedding, back arched into a taught curve. "Help me," he murmured brokenly, his face drenched in sweat and tears. "Valar, please..."

A pale face broke into the vision behind his closed eyelids, and his heart contracted with pain. "Telerin," he cried, choking softly as swiftly welling blood reached his mouth. 'Elbereth. He is dead. He is dead!' Legolas mind was reeling, and the lack of air was making him light-headed. "Telerin-" He broke into another coughing fit as his sudden jolt aggravated the bleeding within his chest.

Arad walked in just in time to see the blond elf release a mouthful of crimson liquid up onto his chest, jerking in a fit of convulsive coughing. "MOTHER!" he yelled, running to the bedside and trying to hold the prince down to the bed by his shoulders.

All efforts proved in vain though, as the prince lashed out and nearly came up off the bed. His eyes opened and he stared up at the boy, pained blue orbs pleading for help. As Arad watched in fear, a rivulet of red was falling swiftly down his chin and his breathing wasn't coming easier, peppered with wheezing coughs. The elf reached up with both hands to grab the boy's arms, steadying himself as he tried to draw in air. His body was shivering and jerking in an alarming way as he stared directly into the young human's eyes.

'He needs something to focus on,' the young man realized. 'Something to bring him back to his senses.' "Sir- sir elf, can you hear me?" The straining features nodded once, the coughing having abating into pained gasps. "All-all right, um, please just, keep looking at me," Arad stammered. "My mother will be here soon and she can help. All right?"

For a moment there was only the elf's heavy breath. Then, still looking straight at him, another nod. "Ye...yes," he managed.

"Arad!" Maeri shot into the room, holding a bucket of water and a rag. "What's happened!"

"He's bleeding, mother, from the inside," he told her, looking back over his shoulder and past Legolas' hand grasping his arm. "I don't know, he just suddenly started coughing, and there was blood."

"Go to your father," she ordered, pushing between them and laying the blond head back against the pillow. "I'll handle this. It's best if you go outside now, dear. This isn't something you need to see."

"But, mother, he needs me here! He's... he's all alone, and..." Arad's words faltered as he watched the elf on the bed.

Maeri's expression softened as she saw how intently the prince was focused on her son, although she wasn't sure exactly who he was seeing. His eyes were wide and glassy, cheeks still marked with tears as she separated them, and his gaze grew fearful as the solidity of Arad's presence left his grasp. "No... no, where...? Don't leave me, don't leave..." Legolas' attention turned back onto something in the recesses of his mind, and the coughing returned.

"Arad, please, just go. I'll be here with him, but please, go tell your father I'll need him in a moment," she gritted.

"Y- Yes, mother."

Maeri made sure Arad had left the room before turning back to the distressed being, reaching for a cloth from the table. "Shh, dear, it'll be all right..."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

'Why did we have to do this now?' Alerenn thought. 'Couldn't we have sent a messenger to send them away?' A pair of horses came across the clearing at the end of the road bearing riders. As they neared, the boy they had mentioned was seen astride a small white filly, and Alerenn suddenly remembered what the mayor had said. 'I forgot to find Arad. Oh well, he can greet them back in the square.'

The man atop the chestnut stallion was tall, with long, straight dark hair and flowing velvet robes. His flowing locks were pulled back from his eyes and delicately braided into the top layer of the ponytail, while the rest draped over his shoulders and down his back. An elegantly wrapped bandana around his forehead bore a crest of some kind in its middle, but the look was slightly strange, as it left his ears almost completely covered. He had sharp, austere features and eyes that burned a crystal blue-green, like the waves of the sea. This man was obviously of regal bearing, as he far outshined anyone in their rough, rural village.

Then he looked at the boy.

Strangely enough, the boy had almost the same regal look and posture, although of a different style. His head was bare, save for a parted crop of wavy locks grown to his chin, barely reaching the tops of his shoulders. The features were still softened by youth, but age was beginning to give him an edge to his nose and cheekbones, and his expression was carefully detached and neutral. The eyes were a pure, light blue, and they pierced as effectively as the man's. Instead of robes, the boy wore a belted white tunic, dark leggings, and a navy jerkin of fine quality: not overly expensive or elaborate, but definitely of better craftsmanship.

He and the man both wore soft, suede boots that tied around the calf, and as they dismounted, not a sound was heard from under them. Alerenn and the mayor moved forward to greet them. It didn't escape Alerenn's perception that there were two more men on horseback waiting just inside the shaded entrance to the woods.

"I bid you good day, sir," the mayor greeted the man cordially. "We have been expecting you. I trust you had no trouble on your journey?"

"We had none," the man answered in a rather straight-laced but not unfriendly tone. He touched his fingers to his forehead and inclined his head toward them. "I thank you for your kind welcome into your village. My son has been looking forward to meeting you." At this the boy stepped up beside his father and bowed formally. The man placed a hand on his own heart, then indicated his son. "I am Elrond, lord of Imladris, and this is my son, Estel." The boy noted that his father had carefully used the elvish word rather than the Westron for the realm these people must know as elven territory.

"I am Keric, the mayor of this village, and this is my chief hunter and aide, Alerenn, son of Albaronn." Alerenn bowed and straightened slowly, smiling amiably at the boy. He returned the expression smoothly.

"We are honored to have you with us," Alerenn addressed him. "Your father mentioned in his letter that you wish to learn about people and customs outside of your own land. I hope we can make your stay memorable."

"Perhaps we will," he answered in gracefully-accented Westron. "It seems to be a very nice village. I look forward to seeing more of it."

"He also mentioned that Westron is another of your studies, and that you wish to learn more of its fine points," Mayor Keric observed. "You do very well already, young man."

"Thank you very much," Estel replied, lowering his gaze in embarrassment.

"Please, could the two of you accompany us to the hall? We have prepared a meal for you there before you go on your way," the mayor offered.

"Your two men may be hungry as well," Alerenn added, indicating the pair of horses at the edge of the forest.

"No, sir, they will remain thus, but thank you," Elrond declined politely. "They merely wait for my return. However, I would be delighted to dine with you before our journey home, gentlemen."

Alerenn exchanged a quick look with the mayor before nodding and spreading an arm wide, gesturing that they go ahead. The two newcomers glided past him and he followed as Mayor Keric ushered them down the path toward the village hall.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The food was differently flavored, but good, and there was nothing shockingly unusual about it. The repast consisted of roasted meat, fresh bread and butter, a sort of salted paste made of herbs and dried milk, and sweet pastries filled with jam. Fresh fruit was laid artistically in a bowl at the center of their end of the long table, and they were advised to take as much as they wished. Three servants stood ready to refill goblets with wine and water for the guests, and they were thanked often by both the strangers and their own officials.

Estel knew very well that this meal was nothing compared to the list of delicacies afforded by the house cook in Rivendell, but the hospitality of their hosts was unlimited. They had put forth their best resources, and this he realized. The meal they were having now was probably the best they could ever offer, and their kindness touched the boy greatly.

Soon the meal had ended, and the lord of Imladris knew that it was time for him to take his leave. "That was wonderful. I thank you again for your trouble," Elrond told them. "Estel was... shall we say, slightly apprehensive about his first stay in a foreign village." The boy blushed, giving his father a questioning look.

"Well, I think he's handling it rather well," Alerenn said encouragingly. "I have a boy of about his age, if he would like to meet him."

"That would be wonderful," Elrond consented. "I will join you and see him off, if you don't mind the intrusion."

"Please, he'd be honored to meet you," the hunter replied, a pleased look on his tanned face.

In the square, a medium-sized crowd of villagers had gathered to greet the visitors, including the children, (who stared blatantly). A path was cleared for the strangers as they descended the hall's steps and made their way to the middle of the courtyard. "Everyone, I would like to introduce you to our guests: Lord Elrond of Imladris, and Estel, his son," the mayor announced loudly, so that they could all hear. "We are welcoming Estel to be a student of our culture and our village. Please make him feel at home, and don't hesitate to say hello!"

Surprisingly this was met with applause, and Estel began to blush further as many men and women came up to shake his hand. Elrond was greeted as well, but the majority of the attention was directed toward him. The lord stood by silently and watched as his son spoke with the first humans he had ever encountered, save his mother.

"Hello there, young man! I'm Elgred. Glad you could come!"

"Thank you. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Isn't he just a darling? What a well-mannered boy!"

"Have you ever traveled outside of your town before?"

"No, my lady. This is my first time."

"Well, good luck with your stay! My name is Thora. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, my lady."

After the first ten or so had been introduced, a faint sound, something out of place, reached Estel's ears, and he turned his head to see a boy of about his own age running through the crowd toward Alerenn, waving frantically.

"Father! Father!"

"Ahh, there he is! Estel, this is my own son, Arad. The two of you can be playmates while you're here," Alerenn told him. Estel watched as the hunter's face creased in a smile, then darkened with concern as he saw his son's face. "Please excuse me for a moment."

Alerenn walked swiftly to meet the other boy at a break in the scattered crowd, holding his shoulders as they held a hurried, urgent conversation. After a few moments of this, the man returned to where Mayor Keric stood with the new arrivals and bowed in apology. "Forgive me, my lords, but there is something I must attend to. I will return shortly. Until then, Arad will keep you company." The chief hunter looked to Elrond. "I am sorry that I cannot see you off."

"That is quite all right," Elrond assured him. "Is there something wrong?"

"One of our men is gravely ill. My wife and I are healing him," Alerenn explained. "It seems he's had a relapse. I must go now to tend to him."

"Estel is apprenticing with me in the healing arts," Elrond began suggesting. "He has been well-trained. Perhaps he could be of assistance-"

"No," Alerenn said sharply. Elrond's eyebrow raised only slightly. There was a pause as the hunter's sudden change in openness and manner left them momentarily mute. Estel looked up at his father, a question in his eyes as Alerenn rephrased himself. "No. I apologize, gentlemen; this case could be contagious, and I would not want your son to become ill during his time here. T'would be better if he didn't concern himself."

"Very well." Elrond bowed, and took Estel by the hand. "May I say goodbye to my son, in private? It will be long before I see him again." Estel knew very well a matter of weeks or even months was by no means a long stretch of time for an elf who had lived over six millennia. There was something his father wanted to tell him.

"Of course. Take your time, sir," Alerenn replied gratefully.

At that moment a masculine scream was heard faintly from the direction of the houses. Estel's eyes went wide and he shared another brief glance with his father. A few people in the crowd looked toward the houses. Some looked pained, others worried, and others seemed unsettled, as though they were irritated by the noise. Despite this, there was no whisper of sound, no conversation. The entire assembly had gone deadly quiet.

Elrond's eyes narrowed, and he felt a tugging from a place just below his heart. Something was -very- wrong.

"That is the man I mentioned," Alerenn said quickly. "I must go. Estel, I will see you later tonight. Farewell, my lord." With that, the man took off running, cape flying behind him, rushing to the house on the corner and ducking into the doorway.

"I will take my leave," Elrond told Mayor Keric. "I apologize for the inconvenience. I hope your man regains his health."

"So do I, Lord Elrond," the old man sighed. "But, as of now, I will take my leave. The two of you may have your goodbyes, then Estel can meet me in the hall. Come, Arad." The mayor took the sandy-haired boy by the arm and led him into the building, his eyes following where his father had gone until they were inside.

Lord Elrond knelt in front of his son and spoke in quiet, hurried Sindarin. "Estel, while you are here you must not let them know where you are really from. You remember the alternatives we discussed."

"Not lies, but not the whole truth," Estel recited. "Yes, I remember. But what about the sick man? Why was the hunter behaving so strangely when it came to him?"

"I don't know, my son, but I need you to find out." Elrond's tone was urgent. "Something is very wrong here. I don't know what has happened, but I feel that it is something to be looked into. You may be able to help this man. You know how to avoid contracting illnesses. If you can find a way to see the man and you find that his condition is not improving, use the athelas treatment we have been practicing. But make sure that -no one- knows of its use."

"Yes, Ada."

Elrond breathed deeply, and pulled the boy close, shutting his eyes with a furrowed brow. "Be careful," he bade him. "I will not be here to talk your way out of things like the time you raided Celboril's pantry at midnight and nearly got yourself executed with a carving knife."

"That was rather enjoyable, though," Estel offered mischieviously, hugging him in return. The elf lord released him and held him at arm's length before rising and mounting his horse with one last, reassuring smile for the boy.

"I will return in three weeks time for a progress report," he told him. "You may then decide if you wish to return home, or stay for further study."

"Yes, Ada," Estel acknowledged. "Namarie. (Farewell.)"

Elrond nodded, then with one whispered word to the stallion, they galloped away down the road in a thin cloud of dust and into the cool, green forest, where the two servants joined him, and the trio disappeared into the shadows of the wood.

It was only when they were out of sight that Estel realized how alone he truly felt.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Someone had recently informed me that, as Telerin is a race of elves, or something like that, it isn't really a realistic elvish name. Being aware of that now, though, doesn't really change anything. I kinda like his name, and I can't think of a suitable alternative. Plus, he's called him that so often... If anyone can think of a good-translating, nice-sounding elven name to use, please tell me and maybe I'l use it. (Thank you to the reviewer who infromed me of this.) And yes, again, I made up all new names offhand, save Elrond and Estel. But if you didn't know that by now, why in the world are you reading this?

That's all for now folks! I will post more, but I don't know if it'll be before I leave or what. I wanted to be posting back and forth, one chappie Immortal Stranger, one chappie Firstborn at Helm's Deep. You guys pick. And yes, I know, no review answers, but I will post them later when I repost. Right now, it is 2:16 am and I am entitled to a little sleep.

Ta!

Em

(P.S. JAPAN! WWAAAIIIII! )

P.P.S. No, this story will probably not be finished before summer. But I WILL finish, and that I promise! I have the whole plot fully-formed in my head, same for Firstborn at Helm's Deep. See you next update!

Hi Deana!


	4. Friends?

I have no excuses for not updating this for two years except Japan and college. SOOOOOOOOOO sorry!! I really am planning on finishing these buggers; it's just taking so loooong...

But hey, here ya go! UPDATE! WAH!! XD

Feel free to deliver the electronically verbal lashing Emiri so definitely deserves. Via reviews.

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**Chapter Four: Friends?**

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Alerenn had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but it had.

The elf was dying.

Legolas's pulse had dropped to a nearly imperceptible rate, the wound had grown infected within and without, and his breath was no more than a whisper. Eyes glued shut with yellow crust, the elf lay deep in unconsciousness, unresponsive and barely breathing, and Alerenn thought he was going to die with him.

How could he have been so careless as to allow another hunter into that room? Everyone he knew was at the very least edgy at the mention of elves; he should have known better than to just let Haln wander in--

A soft moan came from the bed, and Alerenn lifted his head from where it had been cradled in his hands.

"Master elf?" he croaked.

No response. He hadn't expected one.

"I'm so sorry," Alerenn murmured. "I wanted to help you... My son wanted to help you, too. We both are so very grateful; if I'd lost him at the river, I..." The hunter swallowed, laying a hand on Legolas's pale shoulder. "You will forever have my gratitude. I'm just sorry I couldn't save you in the end."

A wince made the elf's face twitch, and he groaned in pain. Piles of stained garments, bandages and sheets littered the floor, and Alerenn paled at the thought of seeing this ethereal being cold and motionless the next morning.

_What will I ever tell Arad?_ he thought hopelessly. _He'd taken such a liking to him..._

Rising to leave as Maeri entered the room, Alerenn couldn't help but glance back on his way out. Elves were supposed to be magical creatures; what if he actually survived? He could invoke some sort of elven healing spell or something, or possibly...

He shook his head. No. Elves were still susceptible to death, just like everyone else from what he'd heard.

Unless there was some sort of miracle, there would be no healing here tonight.

With what he was sure would be his final look at the elf while he was alive, Alerenn strode out the door and into the street, praying that Arad wouldn't be there in the morning to see it happen.

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Estel couldn't think of a single thing to say.

The woman who was supposedly going to be his host mother was nice enough, but definitely more boisterous than an elven woman. When Lady Galadriel had come to visit, he'd hardly been able to get her to say anything at all. He hadn't wanted to badger his adoptive grandmother-in-law, but sitting in silence when he barely knew her had been more than a little uncomfortable.

Now he would've taken that silence gladly; his ears were hurting.

"Well, aren't you a handsome one? You'll be a heartbreaker by the time you're fifteen, I'll tell you that! Beautiful eyes, and that hair! You'll catch yourself a lovely lady when you're grown a little. Here, this'll be your room, and my husband'll be back before long, so you can meet him as well," she kept going, not pausing for breath, "Do you eat much? You look a little thin for your age. How old are you? You'll be wanting some playmates I suppose; we can introduce you to the local boys in the morning. I'll be right back with some supper, and you just make sure you're comfortable. I'll get you more blankets in a moment."

With that, Estel was left sitting on the bed in a deafening silence, blinking.

He'd tried to answer the woman's questions, but the next subject had been breached before he'd even opened his mouth.

_Elbereth, is this what most human women are like?_ the boy wondered. _No wonder Men always look so ragged._

A glance around now that he had time showed a sparsely furnished room, clean, with a small table and writing pad in the corner; apparently his hosts had been told he could write. The bed covers were rougher than Rivendell silks, but well-washed, and a small nosegay had been set in a wooden vase on the table, to keep the room smelling nice. Despite the blistering welcome, he did at least appreciate the gesture of the room and the reception.

_Just have to get used to the... um, energetic conversations._

He noticed something under the pillow and went to check. Estel cringed slightly when he saw what it was.

One of the women of the village must have thought he was younger than he was; they had put a carefully-stitched stuffed horse under the pillow for him to sleep with.

Estel groaned softly. _Oh dear. What should I...? If I don't use it, they might think I'm being disrespectful, but if I do, then they'll think I actually sleep with one of those. Don't want to come back to Elladan and Elrohir carrying a bushel of stuffed toys... I'd never hear the end of it._

He decided he'd deal with that later.

A ruckus outside made him turn to the window, and there stood a man and a boy, talking in the lamplight. The boy had shouted, which was what had alerted him to their presence, held tightly by the shoulders. The man was the one from earlier who'd had to leave the reception, and he ducked low to listen to their conversation:

"No! You can't just give up on him like that, father, you can't! He saved my life; we have to try--"

"Dammit, Arad, I've tried everything! A man can only do so much!" Desperation was heavy in the man's voice. He waited a few seconds to calm down before his next reply. "I want to see him live as much as you do, son, but it just doesn't look good. I'm sorry... I'm sorry."

The boy was sobbing and his father hugged him close, nestling his small body in his arms and whispering soothing words under his breath.

Estel considered this. Should he try to help? _Ada did say he wanted me to try and help with his healing,_ he mused. _If I don't try it soon I may not get to try it at all. On the other hand, if I try to sneak out, they may think I'm disobedient... I wouldn't want to ruin everything by making trouble._

After a few moments he decided it was a good idea to lay low for now. A call from the next room had him rising to meet his hosts for dinner. He only hoped that the man in question would last until morning.

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"Where have you been?!" the woman huffed. "Thought you were coming home an hour ago!"

"It takes a _very_ long time to clean every stable by yourself!" Haln snapped. "Argue with me about it again and see where it gets you!"

His embarrassment at the hands of his superior had been bad enough, but it looked like with the punishments he'd be getting, he was going to be home late for the next few years. Needless to say, he wasn't in the best of moods. The hunter sat heavily, slamming the chair as he shoved it under the table and glared at his wife.

She was completely unperturbed.

"Well, wash your hands and sit. Our guest has been here for the past few hours," the woman told him. "We're having potatoes and the squash you brought home with the meat. I was hoping to give him a small feast; even more so now that I saw how scrawny he is. Come in, dear!"

Promptly making his way to the table, Estel bowed to the man and sat. "Hello," he offered quietly.

"Nice manners he's got, hasn't he?" She was beaming. "We'll have him for the next few days, then Irel's family wants him. You're a popular one!" the woman told him with a wink.

"Sorry for the... grouch talk, young'un," he grunted. "'Been a long day is all. What's your name then?"

"Estel, sir," he answered, not sure what to make of the bearded man's demeanor.

"Estel, huh? A little flowery, but a nice name. I'd offer to show you around, but there've been some... unfortunate events lately, so I'll be pretty busy for the rest of your stayin' with us. Chelle'll show you the town tomorrow," he explained with some semblance of politeness. No need to take out a person's own troubles on a boy.

Chelle was already piling his plate with food. Estel's eyes were wide as teacups. _Does she expect me to eat all of this? It might be rude if I don't. But i'll burst if I eat that much..._

"Go on then, help yourself," she said cheerfully, filling Haln's plate as well. He dug in, and Estel picked up his fork, preparing to eat as much as he could, determined not to let the woman think he didn't enjoy her cooking.

"If you want more afterwards, just say so and I'll be happy to fill you up," Chelle added.

Estel stared at the woman.

This would be a very long meal indeed.

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Arad couldn't believe it. They had been applying herbs and clean dressings, given him medicines, even stitched the wound, but nothing had helped. His father had been right: the elf called Legolas was going to die, and there was nothing they could do.

His mother had at first tried insisting that he go to bed, but she saw in her son's eyes that it was a moot point. He'd be staying up with the elf tonight. To her credit, instead of chastising him further, she'd set up another chair beside her own, not looking at him as she set about checking Legolas's vital signs and soaking a fresh cloth in water for his forehead.

_This can't be_, the boy thought, despairing. _His friend is already dead because of me, and now we're going to lose him too? He's too-- too _good_ to die. Someone like that shouldn't just die..._

He watched with darkly shadowed eyes as his mother sat beside him, straightening the sheets. They didn't dare speak.

Arad kept waiting for something, anything: a sigh, a slight twitch of the fingers, a fluttering of the eyelashes, any sign that he was alive. But it seemed that his father had been right.

There was nothing more that could be done.

"There..." He cleared his throat. "There is still a chance he could make it. Right, mother?"

Maeri didn't have the heart to tell him no.

"You never know, Arad," she said softly. "Sometimes prayer is the best and only thing one can do when all else seems hopeless. He may pull through yet."

Silence.

At first the woman thought he would remain that way, trying not to cry. Then came something she never would have expected to hear:

"Would you... pray with me, mother?"

Maeri's heart melted.

"...Of course, dear."

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The next morning dawned bright and early as usual: too early for poor Estel. A cock crowed in the distance and he grumbled, pulling himself into a tighter ball. The result of dinner had been a swollen, sore tummy, a sleepy body and a confused mind when he awoke. Overeating had never really done the boy good; he wanted to curl up under the blankets and sleep until nightfall.

"Rise and shine, sleepy-head!" came the overly cheerful exclamation as he tried to fall back into the recesses of sleep.

_Ugh. Why did it have to be that woman?_ he thought groggily. _At least the man was more soft-spoken._

"Come on, we've got a busy day ahead of us," she insisted, not unkindly. "There are so many people waiting to meet you! Let's not keep them waiting, hm?"

Chelle lifted the covers of of him and clucked her tongue.

"Well isn't that sweet? I had no idea you still liked your toys; I would've given you more than just one!" she gushed.

Estel's eyes snapped wide. _What?_

In his sleep, the boy had unknowingly curled around the stuffed horse from earlier, feeling something soft and responding by grabbing onto it. The thing was tucked into his arms, just under his chin. He was also fully aware that he had been dangerously close to looking like he was sucking his thumb.

_Oh no._

"Maeri loves to make those; she'll be more than happy to get you some more. You should be able to take that home and show your parents, too! Won't that be lovely? Now, hurry and dress then, and I'll get us some breakfast."

Estel lay there in utter mortification as she left the room.

_Elbereth... How can things go so terribly wrong in less than a full day?_

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About two hours before sunrise, Arad just wasn't able to keep his eyes open any longer. He'd fallen fast asleep in the chair, head falling onto his chest and resting that way until his mother had picked him up and put him onto the cot in the bedroom, wrapped warmly in the wool blanket from his parents' bed.

That was how he woke, a few hours later, at the sound of whispering from the next room and the rosy beams of dawn showing on the horizon.

"I tell you Maeri, it's no use. Even though he's made it this far--"

"Oh, and you'd have me give up and crush your son while he's sleeping in there? He still thinks there's hope for him and if he's made it this long, then maybe there is," came the tart, hushed reply.

"That wound should have already proven fatal," Alerenn was answering in a loud whisper. "Even if it isn't, are you going to make him sit here until months of recovery make him well again? The boy needs to get his mind off of this and back with the youngsters where it belongs. He's not a man yet, Maeri."

"He's as much a man as you are," she answered crisply. "He stayed up almost the entire night praying for that man's life, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let all that go to waste!"

Arad was shocked, partially from hearing such a statement from his own mother and partially from her use of language. Maeri had never cursed a day in her life.

A sigh signaled Alerenn's defeat. "All right," he conceded, but promise me after a few hours with the elf, you'll make him go meet that new boy and show him around. He needs a playmate and Arad needs a reprieve from all this."

"Very well," she complied. Her voice softened. "Thank you."

A silence indicating a kiss took place before Alerenn's steps sounded out in front of the house, trailing away. There was a quiet splashing as his mother wet another cloth to try and bring the fever down, and the boy lay there, contemplating all that he'd heard with a level of numbness. Maeri actually thought that highly of him? And she still had hope for Legolas.

Warmth spread throughout his entire body. He told himself as he drifted off again that he'd do exactly what his mother asked when the time came.

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Estel found himself inordinately relieved to be spending some time away from his host mother. Chelle had been about to divulge the story of him sleeping with the stuffed horse when a man had come up to her and she had become so flustered she forgot all about it:

"Alerenn! What a pleasant surprise," she said, although there was some thinly veiled chill to her tone. This was the man who was the reason for Haln coming home so late every day. "What could I do for you today?"

"Actually I was wondering if your guest would mind spending some time with Arad," he said formally, dark bags glaring at them beneath his eyes. He looked exhausted. "I imagine our young friend would like to have some free time with people his own age?" The last question was directed to him.

Estel bowed his head a little. "I've never really had the opportunity," he admitted quietly. "There are no children of my years in Imladris, so I usually play with my older brothers."

Alerenn managed a smile despite his worn appearance. "Well then, we shall have to remedy that. If it's all right with you, Chelle, would you allow the boy some time with my son?"

Chelle looked a little disappointed, as though she had other plans for the day, but she let it vanish with her frown. "Of course," she agreed. "Go on, dear, have a good time. Oh, and be sure to ask Maeri for one of her dolls; they are exquisite!"

Alerenn caught the pained look on the boy's features and stifled a grin. "We'll be back soon," he called over his shoulder, leading Estel away. When they were out of earshot, he whispered to him: "Don't worry, by then we'll have you with another family. Those two are insufferable in large doses."

Estel found himself supressing his own grin as he ducked his head. He liked this man.

A small cottage in the corner of the street seemed to be Alerenn's destination, but something-- a feeling of something wrong-- made Estel's brow knit together.

_There is darkness here. What is that-- that void coming from? I feel so cold..._

"Maeri, bring Arad out, would you?" the hunter called, leaving the boy at the front stairway. "I've brought our young guest to meet him. Could you wake him for me?" A small harrumph and a flash of messy red hair spoke of the woman within, but she wouldn't come out. She mumbled something that only Alerenn could hear, and he sighed. "You promised," he reminded her. Estel gave him a strange look, wondering what the promise had been, but his chills were growing in their magnitude.

Finally after about ten full minutes, Arad emerged, dressed and ready, a little less than energetic, but still smiling. "Hello," he greeted him.

"Hello," Estel repeated, studying the boy carefully, as he was wont to do. Living among elves made one perceptive, and he found that he liked this boy as much as his father. They had good souls; it was easy to tell. The grey-green eyes were true, tanned skin and sun-bleached, light brown hair was Forcing the chill from him, the boy bowed and introduced himself. "My name is Estel. What's yours?"

Funnily enough, the other boy froze, staring at his father with an open mouth. "I'm Arad," he answered, sounding very far away. Green eyes looked the newcomer up and down, feeling his gut clench in apprehension._ That was the name he kept calling out in his sleep_, Arad remembered. _What if he knows Legolas? Maybe he could help him somehow?_

But the boy also remembered well what his father had told him:

'If other Men find out we're harboring an elf, they may turn on us,' Alerenn had warned. 'There are some who live peacefully with elves and know their ways, but others would kill you just for being able to speak the language of the Firstborn. You can never be too careful, my son.'

Arad decided to wait and see.

"Pleased to meet you." He made his grin as wide as he could, visibly relieving Estel's distress at the silence of his new playmate. "You wanna go see the thicket? There's some great trees to climb there."

Estel looked delighted at this. "Certainly," he nodded, looking to Alerenn for permission. He waved him off.

"Go on, you two, have fun," he shooed them. "Just stay away from the river. We had an incident there last time I'd hate to see repeated. Go on!"

Estel acknowledged the warning and took off after Arad, who had started running from his father's first utterance.

Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all, he thought happily.

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Arad was no elf, but he was a boy, and therefore he climbed like a monkey. Estel was secretly pleased at his own agility and prowess in climbing trees compared to him, but noted that he was very good at it himself. The two boys went from limb to limb, higher and higher into the forest, skin dappled with sunlight like the spots of a leopard.

They talked as they went, the beauty of the day only lending strength to their bodies, going even higher still.

"So, where are you from?" Arad grabbed a branch, hoisting himself up.

"Imladris," Estel answered, securing his footing on a limb that was bursting with greet shoots. "It is to the north of here. There is a waterfall, and many houses, all over the forest."

"The-- forest?" the other boy huffed, grunting with the effort of reaching for another tree. "You mean, you live-- in the woods? No clear spots?"

"Some," he answered, easily scaling the step-like branches of a nearby oak. "There are many clear roads-- and thickets, but-- the trees are so friendly, we just-- live around them."

"Around them?" Arad found himself repeating whatever the strange new boy said. "So you don't-- cut them down, or-- use them for firewood?"

Estel stopped, blinking. "Why would we cut them down? There are other ways to get firewood; there's no need to cut down a healthy tree--" The dark-headed boy leapt up to a branch across the way from Arad, who had stopped to rest. Estel sat in a crouch that reminded the other boy eerily of the elves the first time he'd seen them.

"Well I don't see why n-- Did you just say the trees were _friendly?_" Arad gaped even as he asked the incredulous question.

"Yes," Estel said, a little guiltily. Had he said too much?

Arad blinked once, twice, but didn't laugh at him or call him crazy. "So... so you can... talk to them?"

"Well, I can't, not in so many words," he said truthfully. _Ada, Elladan and Elrohir can, though_. "There's a feeling... Something that tells you the tree's emotions. Look there--" The boy pointed upward, making Arad tilt back his head and watch as the young, green leaves of the topmost canopy shimmered and shook, lightly, as though caught in a breeze.

There had been no breeze, Arad realized.

The village boy wanted to be frightened, but Estel was right: the feeling as he'd watched the leaves tremble was not one of unhappiness, but contentment.

He stared at the dark-haired boy, who looked back unabashedly.

"Show me more."

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Estel spent the better part of three hours walking with Arad, climbing trees, and crouching over soft ground, showing him what tracking skills he'd learned from his father and brothers. Arad was spellbound, and to his later guilt and shame, completely forgot about the dire situation of the elf back in his home. He was particularly fond of hunting techniques, ways of finding people, (even in hide-and-seek,) and now they had just gotten to marking trails that only you could see. Estel was a very apt teacher; Arad: an apt pupil.

The two of them were utterly focused.

"So, you take a small sliver if rock, like... that one, take that one... And you make a mark, like this. See?"

"I got it. Can I try?"

"There, just under the--"

Estel stopped speaking. His mouth snapped shut and he dropped his rock, which fell onto the other pebbles with a clatter. His blue eyes were wide.

"What is it?" Arad brushed his hair back and looked closer, squinting at where Estel had left his hand on the tree.

There was already a mark there.

It resembled a sort of diamond shape, with a thin line splitting it in half and protruding from the bottom in a curve. If one had not been looking for it with one's nose inches from the tree, the marking would have been unnoticeable, but as it was, the mark stood out pale and clear against the dark hue of the bark.

"Can't be," he heard the boy whisper.

Arad felt a sick lurch in the pit of his stomach; he had a good idea of who had left that mark. "Come on, Estel, let's just go find another--"

"It can't be!" he cried, louder this time. "They said they were going to... Legolas, he..."

Arad froze.

The young man's mind went numb as Estel slowly turned to face him, taking in the look on the boy's face. He knew he'd been discovered, but something about Arad's body language made him stare at his friend inquiringly.

It made sense now: Estel was an elven word, meaning hope, his father had said. The way Estel moved, the things he'd said, the things he'd taught him... They were all special, all natural. Living in the forest, a waterfall, the strange accent, the way he'd spoken about the trees...

Estel lived with elves. And he knew Legolas.

Arad knew now that he could tell him. "Estel, I'm sorry, I didn't mean not to tell you--" The words burst forth from him like water from a shattered dam. "It's just, my father, he said that if anyone knew they might hate us, or they'd try to kill him, they'd--"

Arad yelped as he was grabbed by both shoulders. Despite Estel's diminutive size, there was muscle and sinew in those skinny arms.

"Legolas is here?" he said harshly.

"Yes, he and another elf saved my life not a week ago, but he's hurt, and my father said he was going to die, he wouldn't make it through the night, but he did-- but he's still in really bad shape, and I didn't know what to do; I prayed like my mother said and we worked on him for days, but we just can't-- Estel wait, what are you--?"

As the honey-blond boy had babbled on about what happened, Estel's eyes had grown wider and wider until he ripped himself away and began searching frantically in the underbrush, as if trying to find something precious that he had lost.

"I have to find athelas," he murmured, blue eyes stark with fear. "If I don't find some athelas, then I can't--"

"Athelas?" Arad sniffed a little, not sure what that was.

"Uhm, uh--" _What did father call it in Westron? _"Uh-- King-- Kings--"

"Kingsfoil?"

"That's it! If we find some of this, maybe Legolas can be--" Estel's mind was working furiously, too fast to even finish his thoughts aloud. "But Arad, you must promise me, Ada made me promise I wouldn't tell anyone; you can't ever tell another soul that I used it, all right? It's really important-- please?"

Estel's pleading blue eyes looked so much like the elf's that he found himself shocked into quiet. Arad stared back at him unblinking, and a silent nod sealed their agreement.

Wasting no more time on words, the two boys were on their hands and knees searching every inch of the grass for the one thing that could save Legolas's life.

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**A/N**: ONE MORE DONE! WAH! Score! XD

Okay, everyone, poll time: Should I start finishing these stories one by one, only working on one at a time til they're finished, or should I do one chapter of each, rotating? Let me know what worked for you or what you want to see finished the most; I'm clueless.

Okay, yes, at first I wanted to wait til next chappie to find Legolas, but I was too impatient. Dammit, good suspense build is one of the prime parts of writing, but I just couldn't do it anymore! XD XD

See you all soon! (And by soon I mean THIS MONTH. NO MORE TWO-YEAR-NO-UPDATE THINGIES. _NYAH_. )


	5. Saviour

Oh wow. That was so TOTALLY more than I deserved. (sniffle)

Thanks for the reviews you guys, college is a b! when it comes to getting anything OTHER than schoolwork done... Plus as a violin major, you gotta practice, so NYA. Thanks for sticking around so long! I'm glad I made some people happy.

And I know, right? I couldn't really wait for Leggy to discover Estel either. So here it is! MWAHA! XD The thing is, Elrond has still eventually got to reveal who they are, and as for Legolas and Telerin's discussion before he died: I guess I'll explain that now...

DREAM SEQUENCE! (cue dramatic music)

Enjoy!

(Oh yes, and as for finishing fics, in accordance with the poll, I will finish this story before working on the others. Then either my VHD fic: 'Strength and Weakness' or my Moonchild fic: 'Best Kept Secret' will be finished next. To be honest, I haven't abandoned any of them. I just have the attention span of an amoeba so it's taking very-- very-- VERY long. Eep.)

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**Chapter Five: Truths Revealed**

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_Telerin had forgotten his knife that day. _

_The camp they'd made in the trees that morning was secluded and quite sturdy, so they hadn't worried about it as they'd traveled through the trees, enjoying the day and occasionally stalking a rabbit or some other smallish game. Legolas had still ragged him about the missing weapon, however. This line of teasing was a popular pastime between the two of them, spanning a few centuries. Telerin was still defending himself adamantly:_

_"I remember quite a few times when you forgot your own boots, my lord," he emphasized, grumbling playfully. "A missing knife is nothing when you have a good arrow."_

_"And a bow counts for naught, I suppose?" Legolas said, deadpan._

_A swipe at his arm. "You dolt. You know full well what I mean."_

_"Oh yes, of course," he continued. "With your skill and brute strength, jamming an arrowhead through into orc armor with your bare hands would be a trifle--"_

_Legolas ducked as the shorter elf smacked at him, chasing him up onto a higher branch and laughing when he almost hit his head on a low limb. The Silvan prince abruptly found himself blinded by clumps of green: his leap had taken him straight up so that his head was stuck into a plump gathering of new leaves. He looked as though he'd grown a giant shrub for a head._

_Telerin snorted, then laughed himself silly. "You've gotten a new haircut, I see," he managed between guffaws._

_"Ah yes. Lady Galadriel would envy hair like this. Who needs golden ringlets when you have a green puff?"_

_Telerin laughed so hard he actually fell off the branch, picturing the Lady of the Wood with a cloud of bright green hair. "Ha ha-- ah!"_

_With a thump, the elf caught himself on the next branch down, and began his descent. "I'd love to see you explain that one to Elrond about his mother-in-law," he mused. Telerin heard the rush of a river nearby and suddenly he wanted to go to it. Cool water was always a pleasure; perhaps they could even go for a swim. _

_"Legolas," he called, "Do you hear?"_

_Legolas plucked himself out of the foliage and nodded. "I'll follow you."_

_With grace like that of a leaping doe, Telerin jumped the rest of the way to the ground and landed lightly, not a sound under his feet as he rose, looking for Legolas among the treetops. He smiled when he jumped in the exact same fashion, grinning as he stood from his crouch. "I still say you should have kept to the trees," the prince said lightly. "You could hear that landing a mile away."_

_"Only if they didn't hear your mouth first, my lord." Legolas chuckled._

_The two of them were side by side as they approached the river, and seeing the sparkling rivulets of water made their hearts swell with pleasure. It was beautiful, and the trees were echoing their feelings of contentment. "A current fit for Lord Elrond himself," remarked Telerin. "I doubt even Vilya could produce a flow of water this dazzling."_

_Legolas watched as fish jumped from the depths, landing with a splash of small diamonds around them, pure white foam frothing at the great boulders and going transparent over small stones beneath its surface. He silently agreed. "If Estel wished it, he'd make an ocean for him," he said softly, eyes reflecting the blue of the water. _

_They kept walking until they reached a sun-warmed boulder, Legolas sitting on its edge and Telerin occupying a flat rock at its base, peering up at Legolas as he watched the river's sparkling surface._

_"...You think of him often, don't you?" Telerin ventured._

_At first Legolas didn't speak. _

_"I do. I may not like it, but I do."_

_Telerin seemed troubled at his answer. "You could just refuse to see him," the elf offered seriously. "It is not my wish to see you pained, my lord."_

_Legolas moved his gaze to Telerin's face, noting the worried crease upon his brow. He smiled gently. "And you do not see me pained, my friend," he replied, shifting slightly. "It merely frustrates me that I feel so... weak... around him. Being near humans makes me... wary. And even though he is but a boy, Estel makes me feel susceptible, unprotected. It troubles me that this is possible."_

_Telerin was obviously even more distressed at hearing this. "There is no need to greet him or even look at him, Legolas," he implored, "if it is so painful simply to be near him. You have no obligation to do so. Let him be away from us when next we visit Imladris."_

_A bright smile lit the prince's features at Telerin's concern. _

_"But I cannot do that to him, my friend. He is but a child." The shorter elf blinked when Legolas answered in Westron. His eyes had grown somber, the change in tongue merely emphasizing his resolve, and the smile faded as he continued. "You cannot punish the many for the sins of the few. It is not his fault that he is human."_

_Telerin obliged him, answering in Westron. "I know, my lord. But... I cannot help but see how it bothers you," he insisted. "If Estel makes you uncomfortable, you should not have to associate with--"_

_He was cut off. _

_"It is not the boy that makes me uncomfortable. My own memories make it so," he said curtly. Telerin was a little startled by how vehement Legolas was in his words, but his air wasn't unsavory. He merely wanted to make Telerin understand, not yell at him: "It is up to me to rid myself of them. It would not be fair for me to alienate him simply because of his bloodline. Besides, Estel is as close to Elven as you can get in a human," he finished._

_Telerin saw the light in his eyes as he thought of the boy, and sighed. "Well, it can't bother you _that_ much if you're so fond of him," he muttered in Elvish. "Why don't you marry him now and get it over with?" Legolas laughed at the snippy comment as Telerin folded his arms and stuck his nose in the air._

_Telerin had glanced at his friend as he cackled, cracking a smile, and was about to join him in his laughter when--_

_"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!! Help me! **PLEASE!**"_

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He couldn't see. A blind panic seized him and he tried to thrash about, seeking to escape the bonds of searing heat scorching his body, but it was useless; he was held fast. Weakness unlike any he had experienced deprived him of the privilege of even moving his limbs, moaning quietly as pain blasted through him.

"Shh, dear, it's all right; you're all right-- shh..."

There was a cool, almost shocking touch of water and cloth on his skin, and he gasped, making his chest hurt worse. He realized only as he sank back down further into the pillow that it was a cold compress; he was being cared for.

A certain scent still lingering in the musty air made him sick with apprehension: where were they? Would they beat him today? Would they try to drown him? Give him the poison that made him so ill? Make him stand as they took out the spiked whip, shoving it in front of his eyes before they blindfolded him and demanded whether or not it felt good to his already charred skin?

Legolas felt his body reduced to uncontrollable shivering, and he gave a soft cry as hands connected with him, lifting a bandage from his shoulder.

"It's all right-- it's all right," a voice kept reassuring him.

The pain throughout his body said otherwise.

"Estel... Telerin," he mumbled incoherently, trying desperately to breathe without the invisible hand closing around his parched, aching throat. "Estel..."

The voice merely told him to sleep, and sleep he did, falling into shadow that offered no comfort but the promise of a painless void as he searched for his friend in the blackness...

...always in vain.

"Telerin..."

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_Nothing, nothing--nothing! Elbereth, what was wrong with me that I couldn't see it? How could I have not known?_

Estel had been kicking himself mentally for the better part of an hour. It was growing later, and he and Arad were sore and stiff from searching on hands and knees for the tell-tale white flowers. Thick underbrush and tall stalks carpeted the forest floor, which made it impossible to see the low growing weeds underneath waving blades of grass. The dark-haired boy was beginning to feel the onset of despair.

"Are you sure it only has white flowers?" Arad asked, wiping his sweat-soaked brow with a dirty hand.

Estel nodded violently. "I'm sure of it," he said tersely. "They're in bloom now, and I saw some just in the vale before we journeyed here. That was only days ago. There has to be some, there just _has_ to be--"

A sharp pain went straight through his chest as he knelt, and he lurched forward, gritting his teeth.

_Legolas--_

"He is not well," Estel lamented. "I can feel it-- We have to find--"

"Here!"

Estel looked up with a gasp as Arad waved a small clump of vegetation at him, gathering more of the plant even as he spoke. It was true: there, hidden behind a small grove of trees with high roots sprang a collection of new leafy stems, bursting with white buds.

The boy could have cried for joy.

Snatching the bunch from Arad's grasp, the lithe youngster leaped up, still clutching his chest, and raced for the path back to Arad's house, much to the village boy's surprise:

"Estel--! Estel, wait for me!"

He paid him no heed.

_Please Legolas, hold on-- don't die--_

People were staring as he came barreling past them, tearing into the village at a reckless pace and showing no signs of stopping. A small cloud of dust went up at his diminutive heels, sweat dripping from his brow, a look of intense determination engulfing the childish face.

He just _had_ to make it in time--

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Moments ago Maeri'd called for Alerenn; the elf's heart was beating erratically. He wasn't long for this world if it continued, she knew, and even after all this time, the woman was frightened. Alerenn had come in and half-heartedly tried to stimulate him into a regular pulse, draping more blankets and warmed towels around him to bring back some of his body heat, but now it was finally the end.

The tall hunter stood with his wife in his arms, bedraggled honey-blond hair hanging in his face. His expression was that of a spirit utterly defeated as he pressed his temple to the top of Maeri's head. She was trying desperately not to cry, clinging to him as though she were a young girl.

"Alerenn," she whispered.

"I know," he answered hoarsely. Legolas's almost non-existant breathing was the only sound in the deathly stillness while they watched him take his last breaths.

The heroic being that had saved their only child was about to die, alone and unaware. The unfairness, the tragedy, the purity of the soul about to flee was incomparable, and the pain he'd had to endure while in their home merely amplified their anguish. He had been so noble, even after being stabbed by their kinsman; the endless attachment to his deceased companion, the gratitude he'd expressed to them while lucid...

After a few minutes of looking mutely at the frail, abandoned form on the bed, Maeri couldn't take it; she bent and retrieved his hand from where it lay sprawled over his side, clenching her fingers defiantly over his. He at least deserved to know that someone was there with him.

"I'm so sorry," she mouthed, one sparkling tear streaking down her skin, fiery bangs falling into her eyes.

Alerenn was about to approach the cot behind her, when a soft but rapid pattering began to get steadily louder from behind. The hunter turned his head just as the sounds escalated into running footsteps directly at their doorstep.

The couple was stunned at what happened next:

With a startling bang, the wooden bar was thrown off the door as it burst open, and in rushed the boy visitor from their neighboring village, looking as if he'd just been running for his life: sweat-soaked, gasping for breath, blue eyes wide with fear.

Then he opened his mouth.

"Legolas!"

Alerenn and Maeri simultaneously did a double-take.

"Legolas...?" Maeri breathed. Understanding lit her eyes, and she whirled 'round to face her husband. "Alerenn--"

Before either of them could react, Estel was at Legolas's side, shaking him, yelling in a strange tongue: one that sounded achingly similar to how the elf had spoken in his delirium. It made their hair stand on end:

"No! _Legolas! Legolas, dartho! U awartha i galad! Daro--! Legolas! Im Estel, mellon-nin! Dartho! Tolo dan non galad!!_"

"He's..." he trailed off, watching in wonder and confusion as the boy began to rip apart a small bundle of plants still clenched in his fist, licking a broken leaf and tearing away at the bandages swathing the dying elf's chest. Panicked blue eyes lifted to his, pleading.

"Help me!"

That broke the paralysis induced by the child's coming.

The larger man strode forward and parted the bandages somewhat reticently, watching in soundless awe as Estel put his skilled fingers to work, bathing the wound in flowers and broken leaves, chanting all the while. He was halfway between tearing the boy away from the elf and shaking him, demanding an explanation, or curling up in the corner and rocking like a baby, disbelieving of the strength emanating from Estel's slight frame.

Not even flinching at the magnitude of the injury, Estel dug his fingertips into the mouth of the wound and shoved the herbs further into him, eyes focused on his work with an intensity that bordered on obsession.

"_...Tolo dan non galad_," he repeated, his voice monotone. "_Tolo dan non galad..._"

Maeri had been moved to one side and now she stood at the foot of the bed, her handkerchief covering her mouth as she looked on. She did not dare to hope that this could be the miracle she and Arad had so desperately prayed for, but as Estel continued his ministrations a tiny spark flared in her breast. Could it be...?

Moments after he'd begun chanting, her son came careening into the room, nearly hitting his shoulder on the doorframe in his rush to enter the house. "Mother," he panted, his hair a wild mess about his face.

Wordlessly she looked at him as he came to her, hands on his knees, completely winded.

The boy's green eyes were glued to where his new friend was treating Legolas. "Is he...?" he said breathlessly.

"Shh," she quieted, her own eyes fixed as well. "Come here." Maeri pulled her son into her lap, sitting as still as possible so as not to distract the strange boy from his work. Alerenn stood beside the bed, every muscle taut as a bowstring, praying as hard as he could with each passing second.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It had been fifteen minutes.

Estel's face was soaked with perspiration; he looked almost as drained as the blond elf on the bed. He hadn't ceased his chanting for a moment, and the entire bundle of foliage was gone, applied to Legolas's wound. It was growing harder to see: Estel found his vision was beginning to blur. Exhaustion was setting into his little body.

It wasn't long before despair began to dig in its blade-like claws as well.

The boy quivered with exertion as he kept up the stream of words, his fingers still wedged deep into the wound: _Oh please-- what if I was too late; what if his spirit's already gone? No, that can't be-- I feel him-- but I can't keep this up much longer! Come back, Legolas, please come back--_

It seemed as if he still had Legolas within his grasp, but the face beneath him was grey-white and completely calm: expressionless. His heart had stopped, there was no breath moving the chest up and down, not even a whisper.

But what scared him most was that the body that his hand was still halfway buried in, was completely cold.

Fear gripped him like the giant, crushing fist of a cave troll.

"_Legolas!_" he screamed, breaking the chant with a cry much more vehement and determined than his previous utterances.

Arad would never be sure, but he swore he saw a faint flash of blue-white light pulse into the elf from between his friend's fingertips into his body. A moment passed, and another, and Arad was about to start crying again when Estel's eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed facedown onto the prince's unmoving chest, sprawled like a rag doll.

"Estel!" Arad cried out, rising just as his father reached the boy and checked his pulse.

"It's all right; he's breathing," the hunter answered in a clipped tone. "He's just unconscious, that's all."

"Poor dear," Maeri murmured, her hands to her mouth, silent tears coursing down her cheeks. "He so wanted to save him..."

Arad watched as the boy's hand fisted in Legolas's mane of pale gold. "Indeed," his father mused, green eyes piercing as they looked upon the boy's sleep-smoothed features. This was no ordinary child. Elrond would get an earful of questions when he returned...

He heard rustling behind him and turned to see his wife standing frozen, a look of utter shock overtaking her.

The man looked at her questioningly, but she put a hand on his elbow to stop him from speaking. Slowly approaching the bed, she pointed to where Estel's other hand was barely touching the elf's. Arad's heart stopped.

Legolas's fingers were curled around the boy's.

A closer look, and Maeri nearly collapsed into her husband's arms.

The elf was breathing.

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I will be trying to upload more during summer, starting May 5th, but for now, I will be TOTALLY bogged down with work. God help me. Everybody pray for me for finals and papers, yo. Plus juries for violin, and still teaching at the middle school 9:30 to 4 three days a week... woof.

P.S. I GOT MY NEXT PROGRAM TO JAPAN for SUMMER!! XD Trip no. 3, here I COME!!

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